


really want to see you, lord, but it takes so long my lord

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Mild Language, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Sick Character, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “Feelin’ like shit, aint’cha boy?”





	really want to see you, lord, but it takes so long my lord

They put a mattress in the supply closet, told the boy to sleep there, and called it done. 

He still flinched away from most of the crew, starin’ at them in confusion until the translator chip kicked in. Chips were meant to be introduced young, practically from birth – young enough that it catalogued languages the minute a body started to hear them so that nothing was ever lost in translation. It made it hard to get the boy to do jobs around the ship, so Yondu kept him mostly with hisself or with Kraglin – sometimes Tullk, if the captain and first mate were too busy. 

But he learned, and he used his little room to hide when things got scary or too much; he started to open up, become more angry than scared, and he fought back when he could. 

They picked up a little fighter, they did, and Yondu wondered how he would have reacted to the jackass, had the Centaurian forgone his conscience and handed him over. He felt safe betting units that it wouldn’t have gone over well – mostly for the jackass. He almost wished he could’ve seen it. 

The boy kept mostly to hisself, though, takin’ his own counsel and learning things as he stumbled along. Yondu gave him pointers, when the boy bothered listenin’, and Kraglin told him a few street smarts just to make it through the day without bawling his eyes out, ‘cause Kraglin knew how to be young and alone and in a shitty situation. Yondu sometimes forgot his first mate was barely old enough to be called an adult; a scrappy teenager with old eyes who had stabbed the previous first mate in the throat because he’d tried to start a mutiny. 

Yondu would’ve promoted him on the spot, but he had to give him on-the-job trainin’, first, and it was probably for the best: made him less twitchy, more likely to listen, and he didn’t stab nearly as many people as he used to when they snuck up quiet-like beside him. 

It was Kraglin, then, who pointed out somethin’ was wrong a few months after taking on the boy and being exiled. 

“Somethin’ ain’t right, Cap’n.” 

“Aside from the fact we haven’t had a decent job in a few weeks, Obfonteri?” 

(The crew was getting antsy, and it was difficult keepin’ them in line when most of them were rough-and-rowdy shitstains and slimeballs. They barely knew how to listen, and only went quiet when Yondu whistled. It was like bein’ back in the goddamn slave cages, surrounded by the stink of anger and the stink of fear, and he thought he’d left all of that behind. But maybe he was always meant to be in with the dirt and the dirty. Maybe you can’t really leave behind your roots.) 

“With the kid,” Kraglin said, scratchin’ at his neck. Newer tattoos made the skin puffy and red, and Yondu had half a mind to tell him to quit scratching or he’d infect ‘em. But he didn’t, just eyeing the red skin with a curled lip, and after a moment Kraglin dropped his hand. “I know he usually keeps outta the way an’ all, but he’s been missin’ fer a couple’a days.” 

“Ya sure he hasn’t figgured out how to remove the vent covers, yet?” 

Kraglin shook his head, grimacing. Only a week after they’d given the kid the translator chip and gotten him dressed in proper gear, they’d found him tryin’ to unscrew the vent covers. When they asked him what the hell he thought he was doin’, he replied that he’d seen it in movies when the good guys escaped from the bad guys through the vents. It earned him a cuff on the head, dish-duty for two weeks, and a careful eye on the little bugger. 

“Checked already. Scanned fer good measure, in case he managed to put the cover back up. No sign of ‘im.” 

“What about his usual hidey-holes?” 

“Nothin’, Cap’n.” 

Yondu gritted his teeth, pushed himself out of his chair and left the bridge without a word to the crew workin’. Horuz barely noticed him leavin’, and Tullk only nodded and held up a hand as if to say ‘I’ll keep us on track, Captain’ as he stormed out. 

He went to the comm room, pressing a button on a screen as he passed by; the security screens unfolding in front of him like a pop-up book. Glancing around the grainy footage, he finally spotted the boy in the engine room, hidin’ behind one of the machines and lookin’ ready to pass out. Probably from the heat.

“How in the hell did he get down there? Ain’t there passcodes and shit?” 

“Retch was down there this mornin’. Might’a left the doors open when shifts changed.” 

“...If I could afford to lose ‘im, I’d fuckin’ skin the d’ast idiot.” Yondu shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to Kraglin. “Get ‘im outta there, I don’t need him killin’ hisself on accident.” 

“Yes, Cap’n.” Kraglin punched his chest and turned, walkin’ quickly down to the engine room. Yondu watched from the cameras, narrowing his eyes. 

Kraglin had reached the boy, shakin’ his shoulder and saying something; probably ‘get up’ or ‘the hell you doin’’, he didn’t know. The kid barely even stirred, curlin’ tighter into himself and pressing his cheek to his knees. Kraglin then did somethin’ Yondu had never seen him do before: he peeled off a glove, pressed the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead, and frowned at what he found. 

He then picked the boy up. 

“What the hell...” 

He left the comm room, the door sliding shut with a clang as he moved to meet up with his first mate and the boy. 

“The hell’s goin’ on here, Obfonteri?” 

“Terran’s are close to Xandarians when it comes to biologicalities – kid didn’t look too good. He’s got a fever that’s some high, Cap’n.” 

“...Get ‘im to my quarters, c’mon.” 

They walked swiftly, keepin’ an eye out for any of the crew to make sure none of ‘em saw them and the kid. Once they reached the captain’s quarters, Yondu shut the door and locked it, turning to see Kraglin setting the kid on his bed. 

“Scan ‘im.” 

Kraglin pulled out a scanner from his belt, running it over the boy as he lay out, curled onto his side, on the furs. Yondu set his hands on his hips and watched, narrowing his eyes and chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Scanner’s callin’ it a ‘cold’,” Kraglin said after a moment. “Jus’ a cold, nothin’ else. Apparently it’s a human thing they get sometimes. Sleep an’ fluids is all it suggests.” 

“They don’t got no medicines or nothin’? Terra is goddamn backwards.” Kraglin shrugged, puttin’ away the scanner and the information it had given them. They looked back down at the boy, then, and Yondu rubbed his face. “I get the feelin’ if we put ‘im back in his li’l room, he’s just gonna go crawlin’ out of it again and find somewhere else to hide out.” 

“Probably, Cap’n.” 

“Right. We’ll keep ‘im in here, he don’t know my locks yet. An’ get Oblo up here, he can watch over the kid while we go do our goddamn jobs. An’ I rip into Retch for leavin’ the goddamn engine room doors open.” 

“Cap’n!” 

Yondu left without another word, putting any worry he had about the kid to the back of his head. He had a goddamn ship to run. 

~+~

After a long day of yelling at Retch and setting him on garbage duty for the month, findin’ a job that actually seemed worth it thanks to Tullk’s help, and goin’ over their stock and supplies with Kraglin and Horuz, Yondu made his way back up to his quarters where he met up with Oblo just leavin’ them. 

“He ain’t dead, right?” 

“Sleeping, Captain,” the Krylorian said, pushing back his hair from his face. “He threw up a couple’a times on the floor, but I cleaned it up and it don’t smell none in there. Tryin’ to get him to keep anythin’ down is damn difficult, though.” 

“Right.” Yondu nodded, looking at his door, before shaking his head. “Yer off duty fer the night, Oblo. Get’chur sleep while you can.” 

“Yessir!” The younger man punched his chest in the salute and walked off. After a moment, Yondu entered his room and took in the sight before him. 

The boy was facing the door, sleeping with his hand near his face and the furs wrapped around him like a cocoon. He looked pale and clammy and at some point had been peeled out of his clothes into some of his old shit – probably when he threw up the once or twice. A glass of water was beside the bed and an empty bowl of what looked like Krylorian soup was beside it. Yondu shucked off his leathers, tossing them in the general direction of his chair, and walked over to his liquor cabinet. 

He had only just sat down with a shot of some Kree shit (the only shit he _knew_ he could keep down ‘cause it was all he’d been given until he’d been broken out) when the kid made a noise and started to sit up. Yondu watched him, tapping a finger to his glass, before throwing it back in one swallow and getting up again. 

“Feelin’ like shit, aint’cha boy?” 

He got no response, and he sighed a little before heading over to the bed. 

“I’m gonna ignore that yer ignorin’ yer captain fer now, seein’ as you went and got yerself sick.” 

The boy mumbled something. Yondu didn’t bother asking for clarification. He knew what the garbled mess ‘ahwahnagohome’ meant. 

“What woke you, boy?” 

Quill shifted, peeked out of the furs, and huddled further into his cocoon. Yondu waited him out. 

“...Nightmares,” he finally mumbled. Yondu nodded, lookin’ away from the kid again. He glanced out of his large windows, watching the nebula as they floated by it in the quiet of the nightshift. He then pointed over to them. 

“See that nebula?” 

Quill looked at him, then at the nebula, before nodding slowly. Yondu smirked. 

“It’s the Hadrian Nebula. S’got a story to it.” He paused, looking at the boy from the corner of his eye. Quill shifted again, movin’ a little closer, and Yondu grinned. 

“...What is it?” 

“Oh, you wanna hear it?” Yondu asked, turning to look at him properly. “Drink yer water and come over t’the window, then. I’ll tell it to ya.” 

He got up, walking back over to his desk chair and sitting on it. He watched as Quill struggled to sit up and grab his water, drinking a good half of it, before he stumbled out of the bed and shuffled over to Yondu. When he stopped beside him, he shifted unsurely, and Yondu reached over and hoisted him up onto his lap. 

“Don’t cough on me, boy.” 

Quill made a face at him, but eventually leaned against his chest. He shivered a little, and Yondu hesitated before wrapping an arm around his back; fingers carding through sweaty hair, thinkin’ about how he had never had anyone to hold him when he’d gotten sick and how the boy wasn’t going to grow up like him if he could help it. 

“So, see them stars out there? That constellation’s called...” he paused, frowning as he tried to think up a name, before shrugging. “S’called the Fisher King. Story is that one day a fisherman was out on ‘is boat when he caught a big-ass fish the size of a small child. Think about your size, boy.” 

“...Whoa.” 

Yondu grinned, settled back, and fell into telling the story. 

~+~

An hour later, Yondu was layin’ the boy back on the bed, being careful not to wake him if he could help it. His door opened, and he glanced over to see Kraglin stepping in. 

“All good, Cap’n?” 

Yondu looked down at the boy, setting his hand on his hip and shrugging. 

“...Should be.”


End file.
